


til the glass or my fever breaks

by warptimeandspace



Series: our ceiling is your floor [1]
Category: Heroes of Olympus - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Genre: AU, AU that happens in a coffee shop but isn’t actually a coffee shop au, Breaking The Rules, F/F, Preseries, baker hestia, basically what if sally was supported by a partner that didn’t dip she deserves to be cherished, keeping secrets, teacher sally, we don’t need gabe anymore! society has surpassed the need for gabe, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26908333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warptimeandspace/pseuds/warptimeandspace
Summary: Hestia meets Sally’s eyes and Sally feels warm.or: instead of poseidon, sally falls for hestia
Relationships: Sally Jackson/Hestia
Series: our ceiling is your floor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974664
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	til the glass or my fever breaks

**Author's Note:**

> party ponies server is actually responsible for this. we were talking about aus like three hours ago and i think i got possessed 
> 
> title from son by at sleeping at last 
> 
> find me on tumblr @warptimeandspace

Sally Jackson is twenty. She’s smart, smart enough that she got her GED without any guidance, smart enough to get enough grants and scholarships that she doesn’t need to take out loans for education. She’s got her own apartment, minuscule but warm and clean and safe. 

Sally Jackson is lonely. 

Sally is lonely because her only family died three years ago, lonely because every moment of her life is work and work and school and homework. She’s lonely because she doesn’t really have anybody who knows her. 

She’s running late for Job One, weaving around tourists who still haven’t figured out how to use the damn sidewalk, when she trips. Her knees sting and her hands scuff. 

“Oh gods, are you okay?” 

Sally looks up. There’s a man standing above her, maybe a year or two older than her, with green eyes and messy dark hair. He offers her a hand to stand. 

Sally takes the boost up. 

“I’m okay,” She says, “Thanks.” 

Sally looks down and is filled with relief seeing that her uniform escaped unscathed. Despite the initial sting, her hands also appear fine. 

“I’m super late,” Sally says over her shoulder as she starts walking again, “Thanks for the hand.” 

She sees him again a week later. She’s at Job Two, a coffee shop that she’s been working at since she was fifteen and has been supervising for two years. It smells like home. Fresh ground coffee and baked bread and air, the door opening and closing over and over again as people grab their to-go orders on their way. 

“Oh,” Green Eyes says, “I know you!” 

Sally cringes. “Yeah,” She says, “Thanks again.” 

“Of course,” He says, “I’m Don, by the way.” 

“Sally,” Sally says, pointing to her name tag. 

“Sally,” Don says, gesturing to the woman beside him, “This is my sister, Hestia.” 

Hestia meets Sally’s eyes and Sally feels warm. 

Hestia’s beautiful. She’s shorter than Don and Sally with big redwood eyes and curly black hair. She smiles with lips painted orange, freckles dusted across her warm brown skin. 

“Hi Sally,” Hestia says, her voice smooth and warm like Sally has been _wanting_ for her whole life, “It’s really nice to meet you.

\---

Don comes to the coffee shop sporadically after that, random visits where he only ever sits while Sally makes his drinks. He's nice, tips well, but doesn't stay to chat for more than a moment.

Hestia camps out in the corner booth twice a week. Here are some things that Sally learns about Hestia: She’s a baker with her own bakery, a little operation that she isn’t interested in making any bigger. She takes the morning shift, baking all the bread herself early in the morning. She works up until lunch and has staff come in to handle the storefront until close. She loves winter drinks year-round and asks for extra cinnamon and nutmeg in her iced lattes. Her favorite color is yellow.

They become friends during the quiet moments of Sally’s afternoon to close shifts, talking about literature and history and poetry and pastries. Nearly three months and fifty lattes later, Hestia asks Sally if she’d like to grab a bite after her shift. “I’m only going to ask once,” Hestia says, “And obviously if you don’t want to, I’ll never bring it up again. I just like spending time with you.” Sally realized about a month in that Hestia wasn’t here for the coffee. The coffee is fine but her bakery doubles as a coffee shop. She doesn’t need somebody to make her gingerbread lattes. She wants to see Sally. “That sounds really nice,” Sally says, “Where do you want to go?”

That night, Hestia walks Sally home, taking the stairs with her to the door of the tiny studio. They kiss in the doorway, Hestia stretching up on her tiptoes to properly press into Sally’s lips. 

\---

When Sally graduates, she has people in the stands cheering for her. Her advisor, her coffeeshop coworkers, and Hestia. 

\---

“Hey, baby?” Sally asks softly, facing Hestia in bed. They’re at hers tonight, in the cozy condo above the bakery. 

“Sal,” Hestia says, reaching for Sally’s hand. 

“Hestia,” Sally says, squeezing her hand, “When were you going to tell me about the children you keep hiding in your kitchen?” 

“ _Oh_ ,” Hestia says, “Them.” 

“Them,” Sally agrees. “You don’t need to try and soften it. I saw middle schoolers holding bronze swords and didn’t run off.” 

Hestia hesitates for a moment, but she knows Sally. 

“You’re going to think I’m joking,” Hestia says, “I promise I’m not.” 

“You’re joking,” Sally says. 

Hestia groans, turning over and covering her face with her pillow. 

“No, wait,” Sally says, “I believe you about all of the gods and the magic. The Empire State Building and the divine children you keep feeding magic lemon bars. Don being an ocean god too. My only thing is I thought Hestia was a virgin goddess?” 

Hestia’s face colors. “Well,” She says, “I _was_.” 

\---

Sally moves in with Hestia. Her new teaching job is only a short walk away from the bakery. They pack up the remaining stuff in Sally’s studio, only a handful of boxes remaining. Hestia catches Sally by the waist and pulls her in. She kisses Sally firmly, pulling her down by the collar of her shirt. 

When Sally opens her eyes again, she’s at the condo. All of her things are put away. Her favorite mug is sitting beside the coffee maker, just touching Hestia’s. Her old family photos are framed and hanging on the wall, along with some pictures of her and Hestia that she’d gotten printed. The old knit blanket her mother had made a lifetime ago is folded over the back of the couch. 

“Showoff,” Sally says, pleased. 

“Yeah,” Hestia agrees, “Welcome home, my love.” 

\---

“Excuse me?” 

Hestia turns. A girl is standing at the counter. She’s fifteen or sixteen and looks nervous. 

“What is it?” Hestia asks, not unkindly, “You need something?” 

The girl nods. “Ms. Jackson told me at school today that if I needed somebody to talk to, I could come here and we’d talk.” 

Hestia nods. “Are you Tori?” She asks. 

Tori nods. “How’d you know?” 

“Sal and I talked about you stopping by last night,” Hestia says, “Not in a scary way, just a heads up that she was going to invite you over.” 

Tori hesitates for a moment, “Ma’am,” She asks carefully, “Are you and Ms. Jackson roommates?” 

“No,” Hestia says,

“But you live together?”

“That’s right,” Hestia says. She watches as Tori swallows, forcing herself to ask the question. 

“Are you and Ms. Jackson dating?” 

Watching this girl, this girl who she knows Sally invited to the bakery because she needed community and a home where she wasn’t being supplied one, Hestia makes a choice. 

Hestia thinks of a midnight where she and Sally sat on the floor of their condo, a lit candle in between them, and made promises just for them. She thinks of them lifting each other’s veils and kissing in silence, the flame growing until it bound them together. She thinks of the fury that would reign down upon them if Zeus ever found out. Most importantly, Hestia thinks of love.

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” Hestia says quietly, “Are you ready?” 

Tori nods. 

“I’m Mrs. Jackson,” 

\---

“Hestia?” Sally calls. She’s on the other side of the bakery, carefully placing the fresh bread into the glass case, just like she does every Sunday. 

“Sally?” Hestia calls back, her head over the oven. She reaches and takes the last pans out with her hands. 

“Do you want a baby?” 

Hestia drops the bread. 

“Damn,” Sally says as she enters the room, “Are you okay?” 

Hestia nods, taking Sally’s hands in her own. 

“I want a baby,” Hestia says, “Do you want a baby?” 

“I want a baby,” Sally confirms.

“It won’t be easy,” Hestia says, “Monsters will come after it,” 

“I know,” Sally says, 

“My brother,” Hestia says because speaking Zeus’ name right now would be a grievous error, “He would kill you, then the child, and then throw me in Tartarus for a thousand years. I swore.” 

“Not on the river,” Sally says, “Not in this millennia. Besides, you can protect us.” 

It’s terrifying, probably the most frightening thing that Hestia has ever thought about, but she wants it. She wants it very, very badly. 

“Okay,” Hestia says, “Let’s have a baby.” 

\---

They name him Perseus. Hestia thinks it’s a smart move. Perseus was one of Zeus’ favorite sons and though it’s unlikely the name alone would bring them any favor, it feels right. 

“Besides,” Sally says, “I want him to have a happy ending.” 

Hestia looks at the baby in her wife’s arms. He has Sally’s nose. Hestia’s hair. Hestia and Sally both have brown eyes, but they look closer to Hestia’s than Sally’s, redwood lit through with sunlight. 

“He’s going to get one,” Hestia says, “I swear.” 


End file.
